Hawk Peeta x Gale Fanfic
by esmefg
Summary: Starts at end of 74th Hunger Games, don't know when it will end, but going quite well, K but will go M at some point. From Katniss POV, real Gale x Peeta relationship.
1. Returning Home

Fanfiction – Hawk – Starting point: Returning on train from 74th Hunger Games

(Bold taken from book)

"**Katniss?"**

**He drops my hand and I take a step, as if to catch my balance.**

"**It was all for the games," Peeta says "How you acted."**

"**Not all of it," I say, tightly holding on to my flowers.**

"**Then how much? No forget that, I guess the real question is, what's going to be left when we get home?" he says.**

"**I don't know. The closer we get to District Twelve, the more confused I get," I say.**

"Oh." says Peeta.

I gulp back the lump in my throat as the feeling of emptiness rises in my chest.

"Just because, well, I think you need to know something," he continues.

I wonder where he's going with this, but he's already talking again.

"Me and Gale, we have a thing, you know?"

All the remorse I had been feeling was now fast evaporating.

"Define thing."

He hesitates for a moment

"All I'm gonna say is, he came on to me."

"What?" I exclaim

"Look Katniss –"

"You mean you were putting it on? Taking advantage of me when I was FIGHTING FOR MY LIFE. I thought both of you were crazy about me, when really, you were getting it on behind my back? Do you expect me to stand for this, what will Haymitch say? I'll hunt you down, both of you, and make you pay, don't expect –"

"Katniss, please, just –"

"No Peeta! Bread or no bread, I mean, the cheese buns are good, but boy with bread? Really? To be honest, I expected more from you. One minute the both of you are following me round acting all needy and desperate, the next you're making gay babies. How many of your cheese buns has Gale had? More than me no doubt. Your behaviour is despicable. If I ever, ever see either of you two again, it will be far too soon. I am disgusted. Wait till I get my hands on Gale, he'll wish he's never taught me how to snare, that... Hi Effie."

Effie is standing, gobsmacked, in the door way, her wig leaning slightly to the right. I have no idea at which point she walked in, but by the look on Peeta's face, she heard quite a lot. All I am hoping is that she didn't arrive in time for the cheese buns bit. I turn to leave, deliver Peeta my 'look of death' before racing out of the door, and right into Haymitch.

Haymitch. I have no idea how much he's heard. Now the whole romance was a complete sham on both sides, I wonder if he and Peeta had set it up in advance during those private training sessions. Or maybe Haymitch is gay too, and they spent their time making out. I shudder, and decide against it. Haymitch doesn't seem camp in any way, and I would hope that Peeta has better taste – although I'm revolted, Gale is hardly ugly. I hope Haymitch knows, because I am not going to be the one to tell him. He would be disgusted, I'm sure of it. At least I can't see Haymitch taking an 'Everyone is a beautiful person inside, and we should all live in harmony' approach to life.

"Katniss, who are you running from?" he says.

He sounds sober, which takes me by surprise. I open my mouth to speak, but before I can make a sound he reaches in and hugs me.

Maybe he is drunk after all.

However, he doesn't smell of drink, and seems steady on his feet. The hug is warm and soothes the anger I feel towards Peeta, if only temporarily. My instinct is to pull back immediately, but something holds me in his arms. It lasts only a second, but some part of me feels safe with him. Safe and sound. I decide to continue the conversation as if it hadn't happened.

"Me? I'm not running from anybody," I say.

I don't know why I bothered with that answer. We both know that what I'd said was a colossal lie. I am running from numerous people, namely: President Snow, the angry families of the tributes I've killed and the large numbers of officials who would blame any uprising that was to happen on me. And now Effie. Oh well.

"I see. If you're fine then I'll continue my way to the bar," he says, "Unless you have any liquor on you?"

"Obviously not. I haven't been allowed near alcohol since the games." I say.

This is true; it's no good having a victor drinking away their problems so soon. There had been a games a couple of years before I was born when the victor appeared to get on the train home drunk senseless. The people of the Capitol like their winners innocent, not stoned, and alcohol has been banned for victors ever since.

"Neither have I, so if you'll excuse me?" he says.

He brushes past, ignoring me once more, but I feel light as feather. I am strangely proud that he isn't drunk (yet). That the hug we'd just had was real, not clouded by fear or alcohol. And that there was something in his eyes.

The seam grey that means he's from home. There's overwhelming, drowning sadness in those eyes, the bloodshot edges painted by the alcohol that has failed to clear the desperation from them. I can imagine growing old and having my eyes telling stories like that. For once in my life it occurs to me that I should give Haymitch some credit. He has lived through his own games, and some other darkness he has not disclosed to many, but bears alone. That hug meant something, and not just to me. I feel a shiver across my shoulders, and move on.

As I continue walking down the train towards my room, I hear shouting break out from the car I had left Effie and Peeta in. My guess is that Haymitch had entered and a big fight is now ensuing over the Peeta/Gale thing. It is either going to be Peeta vs. Effie and Haymitch, if Haymitch doesn't know, or Peeta and Haymitch vs. Effie, if he does. I half hope that Haymitch does know, so Effie can now be beating them both senseless (nice as the hug was, if he knew about the two 'lovebirds' he deserves whatever he gets) – those fake nails she has are sharp, and an angry Effie doesn't seem like a good prospect to me. On the other hand, if Peeta's fighting by himself, he'll just charm his way out of it, going by the way he fooled me and the rest of the nation.

Peeta.

That boy will pay, and I'll make sure of it. And _Gale_. That had been a little more of a shock. With Peeta there'd been an inkling of campness; the painting, the frosting, the 'keeping immaculately clean' and frequently combing his blond locks. But with Gale, he'd always seemed straight. With all the time he spent alone with me, there'd always been rumours that we'd had something. I'd thought he was crazy about me; the meetings in the woods, sharing his future plans, eating squirrel side by side and watching the sunset. I guess I must have been flattering myself. Though to be fair to myself, he had led me on.

As far as days go, this was a surprisingly bad one. Although, looking back on it, I admit that on the scale it wasn't really – no killing other people, running for my life or starvation, but my confidence had taken a serious knock. Going from thinking two boys are madly in love with you to none at all is quite a change.

I enter my room and crash onto the bed. Too tired to change, I just kick off my shoes and curl up. The bed is soft, with luxuriant covers, but I just want to be home. A few hours ago I would have said I wanted to see Gale, but now that I want to rip his head off it's no longer top of my list.

I am imagining ways to humiliate both of them as I drift to sleep, the shouting disappearing from the fight, and now only the occasional smash. I wonder whether they're throwing plates or only glasses when my eyes blur to blackness and the warmth overcomes me.

I wake up, but stay in my room. I decide despite the admittedly minute chance that Peeta was humiliated, I don't want to know what happened yesterday. As long as they're all alive, which is almost certain, the finer details of the fight can remain between them. For all I know the content of the fight might be useful for them to blackmail each other, and I wouldn't want to ruin such a rich opportunity for any of those three.

The next time I see Peeta is as we pull into District Twelve. Both of us have nothing to say, and the same applies to Effie and a now unbelievably drunk Haymitch.

I want to torment him, but **that wouldn't be fair on my part. **

**So we just stand there silently, watching our grimy little station rise up around us. Through the window, I can see the platform's thick with cameras. Everyone will be eagerly watching our homecoming.**

**Out of the corner of my eye, I see Peeta extend his hand. I look at him, unsure. **

"**One more time? For the audience?" he says. **

I resist the urge to spit on his hand, and instead grasp it, hoping that this will be the final time.

I feel comfortable, the warmth of his touch familiar and welcome until my mind wanders to what he could have done with that hand. I grimace as scarring images are branded into my brain, and put all my self control into leaving my hand where it is, promising myself that I'll never have to do this again. Never ever.

The doors of the train open, a fake smile plastered to my face as we walk out onto the platform and wave at our district. Everyone looks so proud, so happy that we have both returned alive. I scan the crowd for my mother and Prim, finding them nearer the back, but both smiling. Prim looks well fed, and even my mother doesn't look too bad. A sigh of relief escapes me; they are safe. I wave directly at them, and get huge smiles in return.

I look to Haymitch, who exudes boredom. He is swaying slightly, so drunk he can't really work out why he's there, but he returns my smile. I note to myself that there is more to Haymitch then meets the eye.

Effie looks overwhelmed by what must be her own success, waving at the crowds, and occasionally joining in the clapping herself.

Peeta is scanning the crowd himself, his natural charm winning over the audience before he's even spoken.

I don't even look for Gale, but I can tell Peeta has found him when he blows a kiss to the spectators. My thoughts turn briefly to what I will do to Gale, but the Mayor has started to speak and I pretend to listen instead.

There are thank yous, welcomes, interviews and lots of filming, but finally we are led to a couple of cars, and taken to the victor's village.

Around a dozen houses just outside of the town, the victor's village in District Twelve is empty and forgotten. Only one house is occupied, Haymitch's, and it smells strongly of liquor.

Peeta and I are shown to our respective houses. My mother and Prim arrive, then Peeta's family, and finally we are allowed to go our separate ways.

I greet Prim with a big hug, and we cry and hug and cry some more. My mother also hugs, but she doesn't cry. She hasn't cried since my father died. Since she spent all day in bed staring at the ceiling.

We return to our old house and collect a few meagre belongings, then return to the new house.

I despise it already, the new house. I accept it and am grateful, because it means my mother and Prim will be safer and warmer. We will have enough to eat, new clothes to wear, but I loathe it.

I loathe the fact that I had to kill other people to get somewhere decent to live. That Rue died to give me this house. Everyone should have a house like this, not the few who have been tortured and manipulated and must suffer horrible nightmares for the rest of their lives.

But I am grateful and we thank the officials and settle in quickly.

I fume at Peeta and I fume at Gale as I try to sleep in a bed that's too soft and unfamiliar to possibly be considered comfortable.

Then I hear a rustling. It's quiet, and at first I'm not sure it's there. But it is. There is someone walking very slowly up to the houses from the town. My first thought is Gale. I leap out of bed, a clatter as I knock something in these unfamiliar surroundings. Then I remember I shouldn't wake my mother or Prim, and regret my haste.

I creep down the stairs and out of the door, closing it softly. It is too dark to see anything – all the lights in the houses are out. Then a light comes on in Peeta's house. I can see a shadow of a tall figure with broad shoulders approaching. I bristle with anger, but restrain myself.

There are two thoughts in my mind.

I can either reprimand him now, before he meets Peeta, or reprimand him later, after having caught them at it. It being whatever they did while I waited.

I consider both, but decide the first is better – it means I can find him, rather than him finding me and wondering what on earth I'm doing standing outside in the dark, and also, I get to tell him I know before he can start making stuff up. Additionally, I know this means I'll get to talk to him by myself, and while I won't admit this to anyone else, I want to check that Peeta wasn't lying – I have a strong friendship with Gale, and thought he really trusted me. I hope that he would have felt that he could have trusted me with his secret.

The silhouette has grown, and looks even more like Gale than it did before. I creep nearer in the darkness, using my hunting tread – unheard and unseen.

He gets even closer, and I can hear his breathing now. I am surprised he hasn't noticed me; usually he is more aware, but then I guess he isn't expecting me to be here. I decide not to jump out at him, as funny as it would be, because I do not want to wake anyone else. Instead I whisper his name.

"Gale," I say.

I hear a gasp, and a step backwards. Now certain it's him, I continue.

"Gale Hawthorne." I whisper, "Get over here right now, or –"

"Shush Katniss!" He says, and grabs my arm.

I slap him once, hard across the face. There is a grunt, and satisfaction spreads all the way to my toes.

Then my legs are pulled from under me and I'm lying with my face in the dirt, a moan escaping my lips.

"Katniss, what do you think you're doing?" He says, and I hear him sit down in the grass, nearer my feet than my head.

I pull myself upright, so I am crossed legged opposite him. My back is to the house, where the light is, meaning his face is softly illuminated in front of me.

He looks the same as when I left, aside from a large, red, hand-shaped mark forming on the right side of his face.

"What do you mean what am I doing?" I say, "It's what _you've_ been doing with bread boy over there that I'm worried about!"

I think he flushes, but it's hard to tell in the poor light, and since half his face was red to begin with.

"Katniss," He sighs, "I'm sorry okay?"

I consider whether I should listen to what he has to say, but my mouth is moving before I come to a conclusion

"No Gale." I shake my head, "Not okay. You leave me in the dark, thinking that we're best buddies and all that rubbish? People saying, 'Oh, Katniss, Gale really likes you', most of the District thinking we're going to get married? Meanwhile you and Blondie here are getting it on behind my back. Then it's the reaping, and all of a sudden it's me with bread boy fighting in the arena. I mean, before the announcement about the victors from the same District di you even want ME to win, or was it always him? And all the while you were having a sunny time back here –"

"Hey, that's not fair. It was hardly sunny –"

"I DON'T CARE if it was sunny or not. Do you think I do? Do think that's what I came out here IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT to discuss with you? Oh, I wonder if Gale had a sunny time in District Twelve? Hmm, I really should ask him… NO. Obviously not. You may not have had a sunny time, my friend, but at least you weren't KILLING CHILDREN. KILLING CHILDREN for other people's entertainment. Then Goldilocks here says he loves me, and I'm like, woah, slow down there, but I go along with it, because, oh, I don't know, I'M FIGHTING FOR MY LIFE? Ring any bells? And then to top it all off, I'm told he doesn't really; he's getting it on with you! Which if I'm honest, I don't really understand, but, hey, at least HE TOLD ME. I'm just disappointed in you, that's all, just, well –"

I stop talking because I've run out of things to say, and I'm not entirely sure what I've already said. All I know is that I said a lot of things, really fast, and Gale now looks very guilty. So I know at least some of it made sense, which I find quite rewarding. It's very quiet, and I check the windows of the houses to see if anyone's woken up. There are no more lights, and I don't think I was shouting, but I can't be certain.

He opens his mouth and shuts it again a few times without actually saying anything. He looks really very downcast, and finally breaks the silence.

"Katniss," He says, taking my hand. "I'm really, really, sorry."

I wriggle free of his grasp, but don't start ranting again. There's another silence before I reply.

"I just don't understand…" I say.

And the truth is, I don't. What's tearing me apart inside is that I just don't get it. How can my best friend not be the person I thought he was? How can all this have happened without me noticing? Was I too self obsessed, too worried for my own family to see that this was going on? I'm angry with both of them, but also a little bit ashamed that I didn't see it coming. I decide I'm not blaming myself – hell, Peeta convinced an entire country, but just a bit upset. With both of them and with myself.

He takes my hand again, and this time I let him. Isn't that the point of a gay-best-friend (which I'm guessing I now have), that you can be really close to them knowing that they're not just trying to get you to sleep with them?

"Do you want me to explain?" He asks.

I wonder what he means by explain. Do I want to know the details of their sex life? Definitely not. Do I want to know how they ended up together? Maybe. I'm about to answer when there's a creak.

We both jump, and I turn around, ready to fight off an intruder. But it's only Peeta. He glances at me, then sees Gale and I want to vomit. A look of complete mushiness has come over him, and I actually feel nauseous. I turn to Gale, and he has the same expression. It's awful. They come together and hug; it's soppy and horrible all at the same time. I feel scarred, but at least they don't strip each other immediately, which is clearly what they both want.

"Hi Katniss," says Peeta.

"Hi Peeta," I say through gritted teeth; I still feel a little ill.

"Peeta, I was just going to explain to Katniss what happened," says Gale, "Do you want to join us?"

Seemingly I no longer get a choice in whether this mess is explained to me or not. I sit back down and yawn. Something tells me this is going to take a while.


	2. Gale's Story

_Gale's Story_

'_I wake up at dawn, check that Posy's temperature is cooler and leave to meet Katniss. She's late, which is quite unlike her. In all the three years I've known her, Katniss has never been one to be late. I ask why, and she tells me that Prim has a cold, and she waited to check she wasn't any worse before she left. I tell her about Posy's fever, and she promises to ask her mother for something. I thank her, Catnip, and tell her we should get hunting. Even though she probably won't accept it, I feel we should catch extra so I can give her more to pay for whatever her mother can find for Posy. _

_We hunt, and we hunt well. It's late spring, so the rabbits and squirrels are up and running. Although the sky is cloudy, it's warm and we soon have a mixed bag – four squirrels, three rabbits, three pigeons and a few early berries. I lead the way back to our rock – we have enough game and although dusk is closing there's still an hour left to be spent in the freedom outside the fence. _

_I sit down and Katniss joins me, though she looks worn and agitated. Her slender fingers fiddle with the grass, and her mind is clearly elsewhere. I can tell she's worrying about her sister. _

_Even though her mother's a healer, and a good one at that, Katniss still refuses to trust her. Even though her mother can now cope with their life._

_It was hard for all of us after the 'accident'; there are still days when I get so angry about it. _

_Days when Posy asks of the father she never knew, of what he was like, what he did. Was he clever? Was he funny? I want her to hear his laugh, see his smile, smell the coal dust on his clothes when he comes in exhausted from a twelve hour shift and yet still has time to kiss his wife and hug his children. I want to be able to give her these things. But I can't, no one can. So she will never know the man who cared so much about his family, who made my mother the happiest woman alive, who listened to every story that a small boy had to tell about school or friends or town. And it kills me. A weight on my shoulders so unbearable it stalks me through every dream and nightmare. _

_But we get by. We have to. At least I was old enough to claim tesserae, and adding my mother's measly wages to the grain and oil, we had just enough. My father had always talked of snaring and hunting in the woods. I had only been in once – it was considered too dangerous by my mother, but I knew we needed another source of income, and food, if we were to feed a growing Posy and Vick and Rory. So I started going out into the woods. At first my mother objected, but she knew how much we needed the meat, so eventually she gave in. _

_Katniss gets up and starts pacing. I tell her to go home, that I don't mind taking the rabbits to the hob and the squirrels to the baker. She has a torn look in her eyes. Sometimes, when she's at her most vulnerable, she has this look in her eyes like she really loves me, and can't bear to pull herself away from me. This looks comes now, a quiet hope and desperation flashing across her face. I wonder if I'm leading her on. Don't get me wrong, Katniss is my best friend, and I know she's beautiful and intelligent and has a hunter's grace about her, but I've never found myself drawn to her in a romantic way. I feel I love her, but like a sister, not a partner. _

_She gives in and heads home, taking only a rabbit and a pigeon. I try to give her another rabbit, but she point blank refuses it. We walk to the fence together, and then go our separate ways. I meander through the backstreets to the hob; my mind filled other things – a new snare, an escape plan, what I will do if Posy doesn't get better, what to tell Rory that will make him start paying attention in school._

_I arrive at the Hob, and Greasy Sae is surprised at Katniss' absence. I reassure her that she's fine, and explain about Prim's cold. She takes remaining pigeons and a rabbit off my hands, paying a little more then she normally would, and also serving me an extra large portion of soup. I finish up, and walk down to the baker's. I go round to the back, and spend a few minutes looking through the grimy windows to make sure that the baker will answer when I knock, and not his nasty wife. _

_I approach the door cautiously, and knock gently with my knuckles. I don't know if my sigh of relief is audible, but I definitely feel it when the baker opens the door. A man of few words, he greets me with a smile when I produce the three squirrels. He calls someone inside the house, but I can't quite make out the name – I hear Petra, but know that the baker only has sons. Then a glint of gold crosses my eyes. _

_Oh. _

_There's suddenly a lump in my throat. He means _Peeta.

_Peeta is in Katniss' year at school. I recognise him from around, but I've never really looked at him before._

_His hair is long at the front, curving across his forehead, and as he walks towards the door he pulls it across, running his fingers through it. This reveals that it is a slightly darker, dirtier blond underneath where it hasn't been bleached by the sun. His eyes are bright, but there is a misery stopping them from shining. They are not the grey of mine and Katniss', the grey that shows the hunger and desperation of coming from the Seam. They are the colour when a puddle reflects a clear sky – a clouded blue with so many shades you can't name a particular one, with a dull shimmer that moves with the light. His jaw line is clean, and defines his face. His skin is paler than most here, probably due to the large amount of his time spent inside the bakery and not outside like most of District Twelve, but there's still a distinctive colour. It's lighter than buttermilk, but darker than sunlight on a cream wall. It is another thing that marks him out as being slightly above the rest of us, a merchant's son, with always enough to eat and clean clothes. He has broad shoulder and solid torso, with noticeably calloused hands. His arms are strong, with wide elbows and prominent muscles, particularly in his forearms. He has a narrow waist, and in height is quite small – a good head smaller than me, despite his breadth. He looks downcast as he comes towards to door, squinting in the light from outside, holding a loaf of bread in one of those calloused hands. He looks up, and we make eye contact for the first time I can remember. I get a warm feeling in my stomach and a shiver across my shoulder blades at the same time. He looks embarrassed, but I can't work out why. _

_His father takes the bread and hands it to me as I hand Peeta the three squirrels, and our hands touch, just for a moment, but they feel warm and safe; I am surprised by their steadiness. I turn to leave and amble home with the warm bread in my hands. I go the wrong way several times, so preoccupied am I by the seven words gliding around my head._

_Peeta Mellark - the boy with the bread._

_I arrive home, and my mother is pleased with the game. Posy is still hot, but the worst seems to have passed. Her fever is down, and she seems more at ease. Her breathing is light but regular, despite her red cheeks. I thank whatever or whoever saved her, because if she had gotten worse we would have probably lost her. I wouldn't be able to cope with that, and I would only blame myself. _

_Vick and Rory are fighting over something trivial, as usual. Both are broad, but Rory puts more thought into where he throws his punches, so tends to come out equal, despite Vick having 2 years on him. Normally, their constant bickering annoys me, but I don't mind this evening. My mind is busy working out how to meet Peeta. I have to talk to him, and I have to do it soon. _

_There is something inside me which is besotted with him, and I don't know why. I've never felt this way before; I need to work out what I'm even thinking before I can do something about it. I could try and talk to him tomorrow at school, but that will be hard; he's younger than me, and our years hardly ever overlap. I decide I'll have to get a message to him. I briefly consider asking Katniss, but she'll only ridicule me, and that's not really what I want to happen. I decide I need to get some more squirrels, and try to return to the bakery when only Peeta is home. That way I have a reason to go, a way to talk to him, and a way to back out if it all goes wrong. _

_But tomorrow is Monday; I have to go to school, and then look after Posy while my mother works. The week drags by painfully slowly, until I can't wait any longer. On Thursday I slip out of school a few hours early and head to the meadow. I spend a lazy afternoon in the woods, catching a few squirrels and a rabbit. Between the trees it is warm and damp, so despite my lack of exercise my shirt is stuck to my chest as I return to town. Everyone should be out of school by now, but I still don't know when Peeta will be home alone. All of his family helps in the bakery, so I'd begun to think that there was no time when he would be by himself, but I'm willing to bet that at least the bakery will be quieter now – seeing as they all get up so early, my guess is that most of the family will be asleep around now, but Peeta shouldn't be, he's just got home from school._

_I approach the bakery from the front, to see if anyone's serving at the counter. I wince – I can see one of his brothers in there. However, that does mean if I go round the back there's one fewer person to worry about. I decide to risk it – I do have the squirrels as an excuse and with any luck, it will be Peeta who answers the door. I don't need long; I just need to talk to him. I head round to the back of the bakery, rehearsing what to say in my head. _

_I knock on the door, and I can hear my heart pounding in my ears. I swallow down the lump in my throat as the knot in my stomach squeezes. My chest is so tight it's uncomfortable to breathe. All or nothing now, I guess. There is a click from behind the door as it's opened. My eyes are fixed shut as the door opens with a creek. Peeta is standing there, looking furious. It's quite cute, and I have to force myself not to laugh._

'_What do you think you're doing?' He says, 'Everyone's asleep!'_

_I feel a little bad, but at least I know there's no one to disturb us. Also, I'm encouraged by the way he's treating me as an old friend, not a random stranger who's appeared on his doorstep._

'_I wanted to speak to you actually. I'm really sorry, is this a bad time?' I reply._

_He blushes a little, with his cheeks and the tips of his ears going red._

'_You want to talk to me?' He says incredulously, and I can see the wonder in his eyes._

'_Yeah, I –' I swallow. I have to phrase this exactly right._

'_I wanted to talk to you.'_

'_And what did you want to say?' He asks. He is leading the conversation on as if he can read my mind, but mind reading and a love triangle are never a good combination, so I hope he can't, because that would be really freaky. It's one of those things like people sparkling that make things seem really unrealistic._

'_I just wondered if we could spend some time together, you know, to talk and stuff? Because I've got this funny feeling which started when I saw you, and I'd like to work out what it is.'_

_I gulp, but the tension is gone from my chest. A smile breaks out from the corners of his mouth, like he knows something that I don't. I feel my forehead crease up, so relax my face and wait for his reply._

'_Sure,' He says, chewing his bottom lip a little as if in deep thought, 'Where and when though?'_

'_How about the meadow? And is this time tomorrow okay? Or what about Saturday?' _

_He looks unsure, a crease between his eyebrows deepening as he frowns._

'_The meadow? Is it safe to go there?'_

_I realise I've forgotten he lives in the town, and has probably never been outside the fence. I reassure him it's perfectly safe, and that I go into the woods most weekends. He relaxes, and agrees to meet me on Saturday. There is a little awkward moment as I turn to leave, but as I walk away from the bakery I feel uplifted. Something good will happen from this, and I'm sure of it._


End file.
